


Dean Winchester's Lyrics

by HollyGoPossumlovesJ2



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Brother Feels, Comfort Sex, Dean Whump, Dean dies again, Explicit Sexual Contact, F/M, Fluff, Happy Ending, Hurt Dean Winchester, Hurt/Comfort, Mentions of Death, Oral Sex, References to Music, Sam Winchester to the Rescue, Show level violence, Slow Sex, Smut, Vaginal Sex, but it doesn't kill him, completed work, dean loves music, death spell
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-24
Updated: 2017-02-24
Packaged: 2018-09-26 17:42:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 12,713
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9913817
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HollyGoPossumlovesJ2/pseuds/HollyGoPossumlovesJ2
Summary: You'd kept yourself in shape, practiced with the punching bag in the college gym. You kept up with your self defense training because you may not be hunting, but you would never be helpless. Other than that, you'd adapted to civilian life rather well after spending the first 27 years hunting with your family. There was no one left, and it had become hard to find a reason to carry on. So, you'd uprooted your life and opted for change.Well, technically there was no one left in your own family. There were still those Winchester boys, the only people sad to see you leave but happy to see you go. Sam had promised that they would leave you out of it when you'd asked them to.So, when Dean had staggered into the coffee shop as you and your friend Casey were closing the place down at ten o'clock at night, you were immediately worried.





	1. Surprise!

**Author's Note:**

> Hey! I haven't given up on my other stories. I'm working on both updates. It's a little difficult to type this all out on my phone. I MISS MY LAPTOP! This is for the challenge @creative-charlie started on Tumblr. I will tell you the prompt after because I don't want to give too much away! 
> 
> Let me know what you think!

You weren't always sure why the Winchester's crossed your mind, seemingly out of the blue. But sometimes, they invaded your thoughts at inopportune occasions. Sometimes, you were supposed to be taking notes in class. Other times, you were supposed to be concentrating on which espresso drink you were supposed to be concocting for the college student masses.

You were also pretty sure you had some form of PTSD because of the vivid nightmares you had every night like clockwork. They were in those too.

It was one particular Winchester that popped up in the bath while you were trying to relax or while you were laying in bed awake at night. Sometimes he was all your mind could think of while you were in bed with someone else. It was always an awkward moment when you accidentally whispered his name instead of the person you were having sex with. Uh... Oops?

You and Sam had always had a connection, whether it was intellect or nerding out over the latest new discovery in the lore. He was always up for a friendly debate and always kept you on your toes. Sam was also the one you could rely on for sage advice and a reassuring hug. He more than made up for the inadequacies in your own relationship with your family. He was comfort and protection.

However, as cliched as it was, Dean was who had stolen your heart. You'd spent your tumultuous, rebellious teenage years pining for the idiot. Then, you'd transitioned into trying to maintain a strictly business relationship with the guy as you matured, with emphasis on not making a fool of yourself. And finally, when you'd lost the last of your family, it was Dean who had helped you pick up the pieces.

Of course, it shouldn't have been a surprise to you, how he'd managed to suck you in closer. It was like he was surrounded with an irresistible gravitational pull, and you were helpless against being brought into his orbit. It hurt to fight against his soulful, green eyes and self deprecating smile. Not to mention his childlike glee when he discovered some newly concocted food item on the road.

For a long time, Dean was an enigma. It was hard to get a read on his expression or to guess what was on his mind. He was a master at locking it all up.

However, you found it was easier to judge his state of mind by the music he was listening too. That's when he let his guard down and the tension dropped from his shoulders. There was no better way to get a read on Dean than to ride in that beautiful car of his with a cassette in his ancient tape deck. Dean loved music.

He loved the lyrics and the melody. He favored songs with layers that made a complex sound and his favorite part of a song was always the bridge. He'd informed you during one candid moment that the bridge was the soul of the music. You loved the way he would immerse himself, the way his body would move to the beat of the song. The way his fingers would drum against the steering wheel during a guitar solo. He mesmerized you.

Your first night staying with them, after they'd found out you were alone in the world through the hunter network, Dean had kept his usual distance. You'd catch his assessing gaze from across the hotel room, but he'd turn away so quickly you weren't even sure it had been there.

It was shortly there after that you began finding lyrics on scrap pieces of journal paper, burger wrappers and hotel stationary. Each quote from the songs reached you in a way spoken words never could. The first words you'd found had been stashed underneath your pillow. The boys had retired to the room next door, and you weren't sure when he had found time to hide it there, but you recognized Dean's easy scrawl from case notes.

**_"'So, never mind the darkness, we still can find a way. 'Cause nothing lasts forever, even cold November rain."_ **

By then, Dean had become a pro at loved ones leaving him behind. It shouldn't have been a shock that he always knew what words to choose to reach you. Just like, it shouldn't have even been a surprise to you that after a night of too much whiskey and too many dark thoughts in your head, you had fallen into bed with the oldest Winchester.

It became terrible, enabling and fairly toxic... You're not even sure it really qualified as a relationship. If the other found themselves feeling anything too strongly, you found your comfort in the other's bed. It could've been sadness, anger, fear... It was a dangerous 'friends with benefits' that did a number on your psyche. It became more and more difficult to maintain the more you watched him leave a bar with a different girl each night.

Anyhow, the arrangement came to a close on mutual terms. You'd gone one direction down the highway and he'd gone the opposite. In other words, he refused to commit in any way and you realized that you would only be banging your head into a wall of you chose to stay. However, a couple of years down that particular road came to a screeching halt as you'd finished up an easy salt and burn on your own.

You were covered in soot from the fire and you'd torn your favorite blue jeans, but other than that you were unscathed. You weren't expecting a visitor though.

Dean did not go straight to Lisa the day that Sam Winchester backflipped into Lucifer's cage.

You only knew of one pit stop. He'd found you in an obscure motel in Biloxi, Tx and had been waiting in your room for only he knows how long. You'd known something was going down, you'd heard it through a few conversations with Sam. But when Dean had turned his pale, tear stained face towards you from where he was slouched on the floor at the foot of the bed without any of his usual walls in sight, you knew that it hadn't gone well.

You'd spent part of the night absorbing all of his sadness and frustration. Sadness because he'd lost his brother. Frustration at his inability to stow all of it away like he usually did. You let him rage, let him break things all over the motel room. The lamp, the alarm clock... Anything that wasn't nailed down fell victim. Then, he laid regret filled, sloppy kiss on your neck and lips as he thrust deep into your body.

It hadn't been the first time he'd come to your bed upset about something, but it was the first time you felt like he was having sex with you for more than just getting off.

He was slow and deliberate like he wanted to savor every bit of you against him. The long drag and exquisite friction of his body inside of yours. Each sound that escaped from his lips sounded like pure agony, like every bit of pleasure packed a punch along with it.

You'd clung to each other, relished the way your bodies melted together with no air between you. You felt his every breath and every jerk and shudder of his body against yours. His face was hot and wet where he'd buried it against your neck. You heard every gasp and moan, like he was physically coming apart at the seams.

You'd already come a couple of times when you finally felt him become more desperate. Every muscle was pulled taut like a bow string, his cock hot and impossibly harder inside. His fingers, where they gripped your shoulder and back, leaving bruises as he held you tighter. He never sped up, his slow pace losing rhythm as he fought for control. But he couldn't hold out for long, shattering completely, sounding as if he was in pain and it was unbearable.

You'd held on tighter to ground him, feeling sparks of pleasure like shooting stars scatter across your stomach as he mouthed at your neck. He didn't let go right away, opting to stay buried inside you for as long as he could. He was a warm, shivering weight on top of you.

When the man wasn't having sex with you, he was untethered. Lost and floating on grief and whiskey. He'd cried until he hadn't had anything left and passed out. Then you'd finally allowed yourself to be broken and cry for him. You'd cried for the friend you'd lost and the brother he'd left behind. You'd spent the latter part of the night curling your body protectively against his back, your legs tangled with his. One arm wrapped tightly around his waist while the other curled beneath his neck so you could rest a hand on his heart. You'd felt like you were physically trying to keep all of his broken pieces together.

You'd snuck out the next morning to grab a couple of pancake breakfasts and coffee from the lonely McDonald's across the street. You couldn't have been gone for ten minutes. However, the only thing that had greeted you when you got back was a lonely scrap of paper that stood out against the ugly burnt orange duvet you'd ruined with Dean the night before.

The paper looked like it had been torn out of a journal and balled up a couple of times, but Dean's loopy scrawl was easy to read. You had found many scraps of paper on many different occasions. But it was possible that this one hurt you the most.

**_"And if you say to me tomorrow.Oh what fun it all would be. Then what's to stop us, pretty baby. But what is and what should never be."_ **

You'd smiled wryly, tears pooling in your tired eyes and quickly spilling over. You'd taken a moment to let the loss wash over you. It was this way every time Dean left. The pain in your chest proof that Dean had taken another piece of your heart away, leaving jagged edges in its place. You had to wonder what would be left of it if he kept taking pieces of you?

Some people thought Dean was really inept at communication when it came to feelings. Dean wasn't as emotionally retarded as most people gave him credit for. Sure, he had difficulty expressing himself. But, what he couldn't vocalize, he substituted with lyrics. Music was what made Dean Winchester feel and he used it to express himself to those he deemed worthy. And once you'd managed to find your way through that hostile maze he protected himself with, there wasn't a way back out even if you wanted it.

And then you'd chastised yourself for defending Dean after he'd left you with a note, a head full of questions and an aching heart. You'd tucked the abused paper into your pocket and then commenced to eating your feelings before you packed up and split town.

After Sam miraculously returned, he became the liaison between you and the Winchester's. You helped with research mostly and only joined hunts in person when all other options had been exhausted. For those, you were quick to gank the thing and get outta town as fast as possible. For your own sake, you tried to keep as much distance between you and Dean as possible. By what you observed, you were painfully aware that he was more than willing to oblige without a fight.

Hunting and revenge, as well as Dean, had become a drug that you had to slowly wean yourself off of and you were determined to make positive changes in your life. You'd quit the hunting life completely a couple of years ago and put your focus on going back to school.

Currently, you were working full time at a coffee shop on campus while you pursued a degree in nursing. It was slow going, and you were older than most of the students there. However, you'd gotten over the awkwardness and even made a few friends when you'd stopped the compulsion to test anyone who invited you to study at the library with holy water and your silver blade.

You'd kept yourself in shape, practiced with the punching bag in the college gym. You kept up with your self defense training because you may not be hunting, but you would never be helpless. Other than that, you'd adapted to civilian life rather well after spending the first 27 years hunting with your family. There was no one left, and it had become hard to find a reason to carry on. So, you'd uprooted your life and opted for change.

Well, technically there was no one left in your own family. There were still those Winchester boys, the only people sad to see you leave but happy to see you go. Sam had promised that they would leave you out of it when you'd asked them to.

So, when Dean had staggered into the coffee shop as you and your friend Casey were closing the place down at ten o'clock at night, you were immediately worried.

You nearly dropped the stained coffee urn when you saw his bedraggled state from the corner of your eye. You'd caught it, but the metal had made a loud banging sound that alarmed Casey enough to come and investigate. He'd nearly slid on the recently mopped floor in his haste to check on you, cursing the entire time. "You okay?"

You'd nodded that yes you were okay, but your lack of words brought his attention to Dean who had yet to do anything but leak rain water all over the freshly cleaned floors.

"Dude, we're closed." Casey was tall, built, dirty blonde, a star rugby player and completely lacked a filter. The kid was five years younger than you, but somehow you'd forged a lasting friendship. He'd been following you around since your first year here. But, right now, you needed him to get lost.

"It's okay, Case. I... I've got this." You nodded at him when he sent you an incredulous look, trying to will him to understand. He obviously didn't like the idea of leaving you with this intimidating man that looked a little on the homeless and crazy side. You rolled your eyes. It was stupid to think you were ever demure or helpless. However, Casey didn't know that side of your life. "Seriously, Casey, get lost." You finally grumped in his direction when he didn't get the hint.

He'd crossed his arms, looking from Dean to you and back again before he slouched off behind the swinging door that lead to the kitchen. You let the door swing back and forth a few times before you dared to look at Dean Winchester again. And what you saw shattered what few pieces of your heart that you had left.

His shirt was torn, blood oozing into the fabric in some places. It didn't help that the man was soaking wet, his clothes sagging on his pale, shivering body. All feelings of betrayal flew out of your mind only to be replaced by worry and fear. "Dean?" You finally croaked out, grabbing a clean towel from underneath the counter. "What the hell happened to you?"

The man looked like he'd had a fight with a lawnmower and lost spectacularly. His eyes fluttered closed as you instinctively wiped the moisture and what blood you could off of his face before inspecting the rest of his wounds.

He swallowed loudly a couple of times, his voice, when he finally spoke, was hoarse and cracked in places. His speech slurred like he'd already had to much to drink. "Stupid coven f'witches. S'm. We were in t'area..." His eyes lids slid open slowly revealing pin prick pupils and wide forest green irises that looked imploringly into your own eyes. "I ddn't know wh'else to go... He. I don' know wh' they're gonna do, b' one of 'em... She 'exed m'." He wobbled on his feet, leaning into you for balance. The feeling of ice cold water soaking into your clothes was hard to ignore.


	2. No Lyrics to Save You

PART 2

In a very uncoordinated fashion, you slowly guided Dean to sit into the closest chair. Which was no easy task considering Dean had been hunting most of his life. The man was a 38 year old wall of solid muscle, skin and bone. He was hot to the touch despite the chill of the rain on his skin.

"Do you remember the words to the hex, Dean? Maybe we can look it up?"

His head lolled back like he lacked the strength to hold it up any more, making his voice croak. "I 'member s'me."

Pretty soon Dean would be completely useless, but you couldn't deal with it here. Casey wouldn't understand and your life here would be blown. "Hey Case!" You yelled, stepping a few feet away from Dean so your voice carried into the kitchen. You startled a little when Dean's chair scraped loudly against the floor as he tried to stand up. "Dean, stay put." You pointed at him sternly before walking a few feet closer to the kitchen door. "Casey!"

Dean struggled to stand, and when he finally succeeded he nearly brained himself on the counter. When you caught him against you just in time you could hear him muttering but you couldn't make out the words. "Dean, seriously. What the hell?" You muttered back at him, half worried and half scared out of your mind. You were out of practice for this shit. You weren't used to living by the seat of your pants in life or death situations anymore! You'd guided him the short distance back to the chair to sit down before you tilted his face up with a few fingers beneath his chin.

"D'ne leave me. D'n go." You'd seen Sam's puppy eyes, but right now Dean was giving him a run for his money. "Pl's?" The look was familiar, and you knew why. It was the look Dean always got when he was at the end of his rope, struggling to put one foot in front of the other. He never shed this many walls without a huge disaster and nearly lethal amounts of social lubricant.

You studied him a moment longer, trying to wrap your head around this. If Dean hadn't been hexed he probably would have died trying to get his brother back rather than coming to find you. Whatever hex this witch had used was turning out to be rather catastrophic. "Yeah, okay, Dean. I won't leave you." He took your hand and kissed the top of it, leaving it there and leaning into it.

"Umm, I guess you need to get his drunk ass home, huh?" Casey's voice startled you out of the puddle you'd become but you tamped it down. If you showed any weakness Casey would be all over this and you'd have to tell him everything.

"Yeah, I'm sorry." You turned your attention to Casey, hoping that you were looking as sincere as you felt. "I can manage the trash when I get here in the morning." You offered, but Casey just shook his head.

"No worries. Lord knows you've bailed me out more than once. Just get him outta here. He's messing up the floor." And with a dismissive wave, Casey disappeared behind the door again.

That left you to wrangle an increasingly uncooperative Dean into your compact car. He'd only mustered up enough energy to grumble a few times as his knees still dug into the dash board even though the seat was back as far as it could go. "You try living on coffee house tips, see what kind of car you can afford." You grumbled back before throwing your car into reverse and then maneuvering out of the parking lot. Somewhere along the way, Dean had slipped his hand over yours.

  
                    ----------——

  
If you had thought getting Dean into the car had been rough, getting him out and up the stairs to your second story apartment was a whole new level. But, now he was sitting on your covered toilet seat while you pulled out your first aid kit, dripping muddy water every where. It surprised you to see that you'd actually still kept it well stocked. What a little obsessive compulsive former hunter you were.

"Okay, we're gonna kill two birds with one stone." You were more or less talking to yourself now. Dean would only acknowledge your existence if you made direct eye contact or tried to leave the room. You were not looking forward to a time that you needed to use the bathroom.

You got an absurd picture of when you'd had a cat and it had pawed and meowed at the bathroom door until you'd reappeared. Surely Dean wouldn't be that neurotic?

You'd grabbed paper and a pen, resting them on the bathroom counter within reach. Dean had given you an open eyed, innocent look full of worry. "We're not actually killing birds." You amended and he seemed satisfied with that. Oh God it was going to be a long night.

You'd cleaned him up the best you could, stuffing him into your ex's t shirt and sweat pants since his clothes had been shredded. You'd been able to write down a few of the words that Dean recalled in the hex while you'd cleaned him up, but there weren't very many words to go by. His injuries were gone by the time you'd wrangled his shirt from him. Only morbid splashes of blood here and there remained.

Oh the things you would give just to be able to call up Bobby to brainstorm with. Or even Sam to help you think this thru. Maybe there was a chance that he might have gotten away? You made a mental note to check Dean's pockets for his phone.

Dean had obediently taken the thermometer into his mouth, shocking the hell out of you. The last time you'd battled Dean to check his temperature the thermometer had been broken, sending the toxic mercury all over the counter. You huffed out a sigh, trying to expel some of the worry getting trapped in your chest. You were feeling wound tight with stress. After you helped Dean figure this thing out and got Sam back, you still had work tomorrow. You still had a 5,000 word essay due in two days that you'd planned on starting tonight.

Obviously hunting didn't mix with going to college.

The thermometer beeped and as you took it from him to read he sagged against the wall. His expression was absolutely pitiful. His eyes glassy as they looked up to you like he was begging you to fix it.

You ran your fingers through his hair and he practically purred, pushing up a little into your hand. "101.5... Not terrible, but enough to make you miserable." Dean nodded his head in agreement, the pout on his lips making him look all of five instead of a hardened hunter. He'd dutifully taken the Tylenol you'd offered him and took charge of the ice pack when you handed it to him.

After a little persuasion you managed to coax him into bed. You tucked him in beneath the duvet, and sat up next to him while you searched the for the right spell with your laptop. An hour in and you were getting desperate and talking to yourself. "I can't find anything... this could take weeks and what if-"

Dean's sleep roughened voice cut you off, still slurring a little... But maybe it was getting a little better? "S'not really gonna kill me."

You swallowed, letting a chill of fear run its course before asking your question. "What do you mean it's not 'really' going to kill you?"

But he never answered. You assumed that he'd gratefully fallen asleep and that's when you finally got up to clean up the mess he'd made in your bathroom and search for clues in his still soaking clothes. There was no phone and no clues.

At a loss, you picked up your own phone and dialed a familiar number. They'd probably trashed their phones a million times over in the past couple of years you'd been away. You knew it was a long shot, but with only a few words from a spell and no real references to research into, you were a lot desperate. There was no telling what an angry witch would have hit him with.

"Hello?" Even tense and suspicious, Sam's voice was a balm.

"Oh thank fucking Christ, Sam!" You took a much needed breath, "Its Y/N, I have Dean."

You heard him let out a breath of relief, and probably a few muffled curses too. "Okay, I'm headed towards you." He confirmed and you heard the familiar growl of the Impala. It hadn't occurred to you to ask Dean where his car was. He must have walked from where he'd been hexed. "How is he?"

"Sleeping. He showed up at the coffee house soaking wet and covered in cuts. He's acting like he's drunk and he won't let me out of his sight!" As you spoke to Sam you peeped in the doorway to make sure Dean was still asleep.

"Makes sense. He's been hit with a pretty nasty curse, but I don't think it's gonna kill him. The coven we came to investigate turned out to be white witches. They just want him to suffer like they did over their friend. They were bating hunters in the area and hexing them."

"Well that's good to know. Wait, how the hell are you gonna find me without the address?"

"Uh, gps on your phone? You didn't think Dean was going to let you go quietly, did you? There's also the LoJack on your car that I'm probably not supposed to mention..."

You plopped down on the closest surface that just happened to be your kitchen counter. "What?" Last time you'd been around Dean hadn't exactly been a happy moment. So, the fact that he might still give two shits about you was a shock. Then, you heard a loud thud and an inhuman scream. "Shit. Dean's awake!"

"Okay, don't panic."

"Don't panic? Are you kidding me? His chest is in shreds! He's gonna... Dean? Dean?!"

"Y/N it's okay! It's just the spell."

"I don't care if it's just a fucking spell! It's..."

"..."

"..."

"..."

"Did it stop?"

"..."

"Y/N, did it stop?!"

"Yeah, there's just blood now. He's... The cuts are mostly gone already... How..?"

"Good. Good. I think the spell is just making him relive his death. All of his deaths."

When Sam magically found his way to your apartment door, you were a wreck. You'd given Dean a cursory clean up, glad that it was just the shirt that was ruined, still baffled that his skin wasn't in shreds like it had been twenty minutes earlier. You'd contemplated putting plastic down on your bed, but there was no point. The sheets and duvet were ruined anyway. So, you helped a mostly unconscious Dean into the clean side of the bed and hoped for the best.

Now, in front of Sam for the first time in a couple of years, you must have looked like you'd just come back from taking out a nest of vamps on a Friday night. You were spattered with blood, your hair was a mess and your eyes must have been glowing with the amount of adrenaline you had pumping through your veins.

You let him scoop you in for a quick hug, his strong arms holding you up for a brief moment, before pulling away. He looked like he could use some sleep, but beneath the dark circles that pooled underneath his eyes, he looked the same. He followed you back into your bedroom, but didn't make an effort to wake Dean. You supposed death could take a toll on a person. Even if it wasn't real. So, you let him sleep.

"How many times did Dean die while I was gone?" You asked, leaning against the door way, not taking your eyes off of Dean's slumbering face. You didn't want him to go through this alone and you thought maybe this is what he'd meant at the coffee shop. He'd said not to leave. He'd said please.

Then the second you leave something horrible happens.

"Uh, just once actually. Stabbed in the chest after having his ass handed to him by a scribe of God. That was the last. You missed out on demon Dean. He was a lot of fun." Sam leaned against the wall just inside the room, speaking quietly. "But if that was the hellhounds then next will be the bullet to the chest." He ran his long fingers through his tangled hair. He must have been searching for Dean when you called, driving himself crazy.

It was now around 1 am and you were already starting to feel the effects of tonight. Not to mention you'd had a full day of classes and work under your belt. However, the evening seemed like it was just beginning.

"He must've died a hundred times before he found you. Freakin asshole Trickster."

"He looked terrible. Like he'd run into Edward Scissorhands on the way over." The image must have been amusing because a small smile made its way momentarily onto Sam's lips. It always made you glow a little with pride when you made a Winchester smile. "The spell has to run its course? There's nothing we can do?"

"Yeah, I called Rowena, repeated the incantation to her. She said it was a nasty spell but 'not particularly life threatening.' So, we'll just do our best to keep him hydrated and comfortable." He watched his brother fondly for a moment, seeming to catalog every breath and twitch Dean made. "Ya know, I'm not looking forward to doing this a second time. I mean, once was really enough."

You nodded in agreement, even though you had no idea who Rowena was. Now certainly wasn't the time to catch up. "I bet."

"I hate to do this to you, I remember what it was like to be in school, but I gotta get back to the station to wipe their files. That was the deal. They'll stop hurting people and I'll get rid of the evidence. Do you mind..?"

"Do I mind watching your brother die a couple of times until you get back?" You asked with all the seriousness in the world before you couldn't keep up the charade. "Of course, Sam, I got this."

 

 


	3. Hunting and School Don't Mix

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Y/N gets an idea of what happened after she left the Winchesters.

The few times Dean woke up during the hours that Sam was gone you managed to get a few swallows of water into him. His temperature was staying at a steady 101.5, so it must've been a side effect of the curse rather than Dean getting sick.

Just sitting there watching him pulled heavily at your heart strings. Whether it was the tired, worn expression on his face even in sleep or the way his hair had dried plastered to his forehead in one place and fluffy in another. You weren't sure. But, soon enough, you couldn't take it anymore and dug out your laptop again.

You'd gotten 400 words into your essay before Dean sucked in a startled gasp. Then, as you watched helplessly, crimson spread like spilled juice from the center of his chest. His eyes landed on you, wide and frightened.

You didn't care if your laptop survived when you threw it off of your lap so that you could lean over Dean. You brushed his hair from his forehead and kissed his cheek. "It's okay, Dean. It's just a spell. You're okay..." His eyes rolled to white and his body arched like it'd been touched by a live wire before all energy deflated and he landed in a heavy lump on the bed. The only thing that told you he was alive was the subtle rise and fall of his chest.

You didn't pay attention to the blood when you curled into his side, your head tucked into his shoulder. Fuck, how many times had Dean gone through this alone? What had been the last straw? What had made him try to find you? You cried like you'd just lost him all over again. You cried because more than anything, you still loved this idiot. It killed you to see him like this.

You don't know how long you stayed like that. It wasn't long enough that Sam had returned but definitely long enough for you to ache because of it. But you really didn't stop until Dean's warm finger tips touched your face. He wiped away some of the moisture with his thumb before cupping your jaw.

"S'ok, s'jus a spell." His fractured smile sent more traitorous tears sliding down your face.

Dean was no longer that crazy teenager from your youth that you couldn't keep your eyes off of. Nor was he the broken man you'd tried to piece back together nearly 8 years ago. This Dean had been through everything and back. This Dean had managed to persevere despite it all.

Your watery excuse for a smile made his eyes crinkle in return. "There she is."

You rolled your eyes, but didn't move his hand from your face. It was work calloused and warm and probably the best thing you'd ever felt. "I called Sam, he's taking care of some loose ends. He should be back any minute."

His eyes became heavy, barely open when he nodded that he'd heard you. The spell was really taking its toll on him physically and you couldn't imagine what dying again, several times would do to someone's mental state.

"Stay..." He said it on a drawn out breath, his hand sliding from your face to rest against your chest. You had to bite back the joke you wanted to make about Dean gravitating towards your boobs even in sleep.

You watched him for a moment, studying the lines in his face that you knew so well. It warmed your heart and simultaneously broke it in two to know you'd finally broken through the last wall. That when Dean was distressed, he wanted you to stick around. There were not many people that Dean trusted to be strong enough for that.

It was getting close to 5 in the morning and you were seconds from getting up from your spot to call Sam when you heard the tell tale sounds of someone picking the lock. Instinctively, you reached beneath your pillow to grip the .22 you kept stashed there.

However, there was no real need to arm yourself because it was Sam who peeped around the doorway.

"Hey, how're things going?" Sam ventured further inside, speaking quietly. "Has he..?"

"Last one was the bullet to the chest. How many are left?" You weren't there every time Dean decided to sacrifice himself. You'd been completely cut off from them for the past two years. Anything could've happened.

Sam nodded, an ancient expression gracing his features and posture. "Just one more. Metatron stabs him with an angel blade. It'll be about 2 inches long. Metatron kicked his ass pretty solidly too."

No doubt Sam had intimate details of Dean's injuries. He was always the one to clean him up, even in death. Their relationship had always made you a little jealous. The way they communicated. The way they always had each other's back. You never got that close to your siblings. They were older and far too caught up in the hunting to pay attention to a little weakling like you.

It didn't bother you too much anymore. Sam and Dean had brought you into the fold. They had made you feel like one of them, like you really belonged with them.

"Anyhow..." Sam shifted uncomfortably, and it seemed like he wasn't quite sure what to do with himself. It dawned on you that you were still cuddled up with Dean, dried blood and tears on your cheek.

You sat up, carefully disentangling yourself, and shuffled past Sam. He eyed you curiously but didn't follow. But he nodded his thanks when you returned with a chair from your dinning room after using a wet wash cloth to clean your face.

"I guess there's no reason to disturb him to clean up, huh?" You asked before sitting down beside the bed and facing Sam, the carpet was soft beneath your fingers.

"Nah, we'll just let him sleep." Sam decided, resting his elbows on his knees and his face in his hands. He was quiet for a while, the only background noise the sound of Dean softly snoring. It worried you that the spell was taking more and more out of him. "So, how has school been going?"

If he felt better with inane small talk while you waited for his brother to die, again, than that's what you were going to do. "Uh, well, it was a lot harder adjusting than I thought." You offered, the sheepish look on your face a product of the memory of the last big argument you'd had with Dean before you left.

_"You know it's not going to be easy, right? You're gonna see shape shifters over your shoulder and vampires in all of your fellow students. And the nightmares aren't exactly gonna take a vacation, darlin'."_

_Dean had solid points, but you had already made up your mind and you weren't too great at hearing other people out. Once you committed to an idea, there was no swaying you. "I know, Dean. I don't care."_

_He sighed heavily, like he'd known exactly how you were going to respond. "Will you at least call us when you get there?" This modicum of actual care threw you for two seconds before you collected yourself again._

_"Dean, I've got this, but you gotta let me go." You hadn't waited for him to respond, slamming the trunk closed on your newly acquired gas efficient Toyota Corolla and turned your back on ever hunting again._

_"Don't come crawling back here when civilian life chews you up and spits you out!" He'd watched you pull away from the bunker garage, his arms crossed over his chest and a pinched look on his face._

Had you been especially proud of how you'd handled things? No. Did you need a fresh start for this to work? Absolutely.

It wasn't until you'd settled in your first, completely disgusting apartment, that you'd found a piece of paper at the bottom of your duffle that you knew you hadn't put there.

**_"Reach for the golden ring, reach for the sky! Baby, just spread your wings and get higher, higher. Straight up you'll climb! Higher, higher. Leave it all behind."_ **

As much as it probably made you sound like a bit of a wuss, you had to admit at least to yourself, that you'd cried for an hour after that. Even if it was over a Van Halen song.

Sam smiled, his dimples popping deeply. "I've been there." He pat the top of you're head affectionately, "Doesn't look like you're doin' too badly for yourself. This place is a huge step up from your first apartment."

You returned with a wry smile, "You guys never left me alone, did you?"

"Well, as alone as you ever could be. You had to know Dean wouldn't let you come out here by yourself without checking the place over. He tried not to intervene as much as he could. He knew you'd be pissed if you ever found out."

"Actually, Dean and I weren't exactly on the best of terms when I left, so yeah, I thought I was alone." You suddenly found the texture of your carpet very intriguing.

Sam sighed, a long suffering brother sigh, "Dean's not exactly the most rational. He doesn't always make great decisions or find the right thing to say. But, Y/N, he's loyal and once you end up in his orbit... It's hard as hell to mess up enough to find your way out of it."

You nodded in agreement, you knew that about him, but you somehow found yourself thinking that it applied to everyone but you.

"You breathe a word of this to him and he'll kill me." He waited for you to look up from your intense study of the floor. "Dean's been a little stupid for you for a long time. Since you were just a pissy teenager with a long braid and a sawed off."

The thought of Dean at that age was a pleasant one. Sharp jaw, rosy cheeks, freckles and a death glare that over compensated for his long eye lashes and plump lips. He'd barely looked in your direction then. You found Sam's confession a little hard to believe.

"I'm pretty sure Dean resented the idea of me being around on any hunts back then. He hung out with my brothers and taunted me on the two hunts you guys helped with." Your relationship with your brothers were nothing like the way Sam and Dean were. It was probably because they had been so much older than you. Your dad preached firmly about not getting attached to anyone. Even your own family.

_"Attachments to anyone or anything make you weak, Y/N. We have an obligation to rid the world of this evil, nothing else. The job is your life."_

Your father had once said those words to you a couple of years after a wraith had taken your mother's life. He'd grown even more methodical, treating the rest of his family with clinical precision and nothing more.

Sam smiled a warm smile, his gaze fixed on his brother's face behind you. "He's not as smooth as he might want other people to believe. And this is the truth..." His fingers on your chin lifted your gaze as he fixed his eyes on yours. "Dean was never really taught how to show anyone other than his family affection. Yeah, he had four years with Mom and Dad, but that's it."

You'd never really thought of it that way. Never really processed that his slap on the back after a successful hunt or pulling your pony tail randomly on the way back, was anything but a show of brotherly affection.

"So," he let go of your chin. "The result is that he treats you like his best friend on an elementary school playground." Sam huffed out another breath as his eyes traveled back to his brother's face with a fond expression. "He worried about you when you left. I knew he wasn't going to let it go until he saw you with his own eyes. That you were doing okay."

Sam slouched down in his chair but didn't take his eyes off of his brother. "Did you come too?" You prompted after he had stayed quiet for a little too long.

"No, we were neck deep in tablets back then. Dean had just taken on the Mark of Cain and was a little lost. He was back a lot earlier than he said he would be. So, I assumed that you guys had argued or something. He wouldn't tell me about it."

You tried to think of anything that could've offended Dean back then, but nothing came to mind. To be honest, everything about those first few months away from the Winchesters kind of blurred together. "I never saw him."

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you think! Thanks for the kudos!


	4. Brotherly Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The spell comes to a dramatic end and Y/N and Sam are there to help Dean. Afterwards, Y/N gets a surprise she wasn't expecting. On might say she falls head first into the situation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to the awesome people who've been sticking with me and reading my stuff. You guys give me life. Seriously. So, I hope you enjoy this next chapter. 
> 
> Just a heads up, there is some violence and a little bit of cheese.

PART 4

Sam nodded and looked as if he would say something else, but he was interrupted by Dean's face whipping to the side like he'd been slapped. Blood oozed from where the unseen object had split his skin. Dean's eyes were wide open and afraid now, searching the room like he was trying to figure out just where the hell he was.

"Dean, hey... Hey, it's okay." Sam put his hand on his brother's shoulder to steady him, trying to make eye contact. "You're okay, it's just a spell. You'll be okay." Sam never faltered, never let on how much it affected him to see his brother thrashed about his head and upper body.

"S'mmy?" Dean tried to talk through his busted lips, tried to focus but he had no defenses against the attack that was currently kicking his ass.

But you... You were horrified. Tears clouded your vision as you watched more cuts and bruises litter his face. You watched Sam struggle to keep him still, to keep him from really injuring himself. You managed to grab his legs to keep him from kicking out. You watched as his entire upper body and face was slowly coated in deep red blood. All of this happened from a source that you couldn't see. You could do nothing to help him.

"You're okay, big brother. It's almost over." Sam intoned his words like a command, both hands now being used to keep Dean on the bed now as he jerked with each blow.

You wanted to put your hands on his face, you wanted to tell him that he was okay. You didn't want to get in Sam's way, so you stood helpless until it was over, pushing down hard on his muscular thighs. The way they flexed and bunched beneath your hands was slightly distracting. That was, until you'd heard the way the angel blade had pierced his chest and the rush of air as it left his lungs.

You didn't watch as Dean struggled to speak. You only heard Sam reassuring him quietly. "It's okay, big brother. It's not real this time... I know it hurts and it feels damn real, but I promise it's not." Sam was rubbing a hand over his brother's shoulder, in an effort to comfort. "It's okay, brother, just relax. That's it..."

It seemed to have ended just as suddenly as it had began, leaving both you and Sam breathless. There was blood everywhere. Your bed was drenched, your clean light blue walls spattered. And Dean... There wasn't a spec of skin exposed that wasn't coated in sticky blood. The wounds on his face and neck were already beginning to knit together right before your eyes.

Sam had quickly snapped out of his shock and jumped straight into damage control. "Run a warm bath, will you?" He began the task of getting Dean out of his clothes in quick, efficient tugs.

When Sam looked in your direction you could see the blood spatter on his face too. You nodded wordlessly, unexpectedly relieved to have some task to do and be useful.

Other than helping Sam get Dean, who was still unconscious and heavy, to the bathroom, you stayed out of the way. By the time Dean was unmarked, clean and clothed you had tidied up your bedroom as much as it could be. Sam made sure his brother was tucked in comfortably with practiced ease before turning back to you.

He had cleaned up a bit too, his clothes were no longer saturated in blood. But you, you could feel where the blood was making your clothes stick to your skin. "Why don't you go clean up and I'll make sure he drinks something, yeah?" Sam was patient and kind and you had no problems answering the underlying command in those words.

You took your time in the shower, letting the now chilled water raise goose bumps as you washed your skin. Once you'd dried off perfunctorily, you slipped into a t shirt and shorts before you quietly walked down the hall to check on everyone. Dean was alone, sleeping deeply on your bed. All evidence that there had been a blood bath earlier was gone.

A quick peep into the den of your apartment and you found that Sam had pulled a blanket from your closet and fallen asleep on the couch. His snoring would be obnoxious if you weren't so damn grateful to have him here.

You didn't miss the stress of the hunting life or the life and death of it all. You missed how empowered you felt when you completed a difficult hunt. You missed the way the Winchesters had made you feel like you belonged with them. That they were the only family that mattered. But the pull wasn't enough that you would drop everything and go back.

With Sam on the couch, that only left one place for you, unless you wanted to sleep on the floor. However, you weren't going to be that chivalrous. Dean had never minded sharing a sleeping space with you before. You doubted he would start now. Slowly, you crawled beneath the covers, trying to leave space between you and the man you were head over heels in love with. You ached to roll over and hold him, to study his face just a moment longer because you knew he wouldn't be sticking around. However, work was only a few hours away and you were exhausted. You fell asleep feeling safe in a way you hadn't for the past two years.

                          —•—•—•—

You woke up a little lost, the sun shining through your blinds much higher in the sky than you were expecting. The red numbers on your alarm clock read ten am and you bolted upright. You were instantly in damage control mode, throwing your wrinkled uniform on. You had a toothbrush in your mouth as you threw things into your bag and bounced into your shoes.

You had no idea what your hair looked like as you stumbled into the den. You didn't have time to even survey the damage the boys had left before you tripped ass over tea kettle. Your face became pretty intimate with the texture of the carpet and your bag launched across the room to land with a dull thud against the opposite wall.

You were stunned for a moment, not able to identify the duffle you'd tripped over or the low chuckle that was coming from somewhere near your kitchen. "What the fuck?" You finally mumbled as you sat up, completely confused and sleep deprived.

"I thought you were gonna sleep all day."

His voice caused your head to whip embarrassingly fast in his direction. "Dean?"

Dean's warm hands scooped you up by your arms and guided you to sit at your dining room table. "You're still here." You wondered aloud, "And you're making pancakes..?"

It was Dean's turn to look sheepish and you really couldn't figure out why. Well, aside from the pancake batter on his shirt and in his perfectly gelled hair. You didn't even want to think about the rest of your kitchen. "Yeah, I think I owe you some pancakes, sweetheart."

That snapped you out of it, "I don't need pity pancakes. I've gotta get to work and I've got an essay and I can't-" He was quick to stop you with a hand on your arm.

"I swear it's not pity pancakes... Just, calm down. Give me two minutes, okay?" He looked like he was on the verge of pleading with you and it was working in a way that was baffling. It was like he'd given you a damn narcotic and your brain was floating.

"But, work-" You tried valiantly to resist his grass green eyes that were trained on you.

"I talked to Stacy-" He started, putting a couple of plates on the table along with syrup and the large stack of pancakes in the middle. God, they actually looked edible and you were starving! You were supposed to grab a pizza on your way home from work. That hadn't worked out.

"Casey?" You questioned, slash corrected. Any contact between your past life and your current one couldn't bode well for you. No matter how distracted by fluffy, warm pancakes.

"Yeah, whatever." He plopped a few pancakes on your plate. "I told him that you'd had a rough night and that you weren't feeling well." He was very methodical as he buttered his pancakes and poured copious amounts of syrup all over his plate and dribbled onto the table. "And that you'd be staying home... with me."

"What? You told Casey I wasn't... and then... you what?" It was possible that you were losing your mind. "Did you-" Dean pushed a piece of pancake into your mouth to stem the flow of your questions.

"Look, I didn't tell him what really happened last night, okay?" He paused for a moment watching you pensively chew the mouthful of pancake with a look of pure amusement on his face before he became serious. If anyone could pensively chew something, it was you. "I told him that I had been a complete jackass... and stupid. That I'd had you in my life and I... Will you quit looking at me like that!?"

You bit your lip, as soon as you were able, against all of the sarcastic jabs and pointed words you wanted to say. You watched with interest as he became flustered and you waited for him to look at you again and explain what he meant. You tried to school your features from open disbelief to just slightly interested. Because, honestly, you had no idea what he was trying to say. He'd started some conversations like this, only to then offer up his opinion about whatever food you were eating before walking away. He would leave you completely confused.

He huffed out a breath, obviously flustered. His face was turning a very interesting shade of red and he'd been openly abusing his lips with his teeth. "What I'm trying to say, Y/N..." He finally looked up at you, his watery green eyes giving you no choice but to look back. "Y/N, I'm sorry. I'm sorry for pushing you away and treating you like shit for all of these years. I'm sorry for all of it." His voice petered out like it did sometimes, like he'd pushed the words out until he ran out of breath.

Those were words you'd never expected to hear from Dean Winchester. So, excuse you if you nearly choked on your own spit. Your face flushed as you coughed and covered your face. It was partly embarrassment and partly that you were oxygen deprived. Dean pushed a glass of orange juice into your hand and urged you to take a sip, then crouched down beside you.

"Shit, sweetheart. This wouldn't be a good time for you to choke to death." He watched you for a moment, a quiet fondness emanating from every feature. He waited for you to be able to breath, his hand rubbing against your back. "I know, you can test me if you want, but I'm not possessed." You narrowed your eyes at him and he put both hands in the air, "Or a shape shifter. I'm just a little slow." Your eyes were now mere slits, "Okay! A lot slow!"

You nodded your agreement, not trusting your voice enough to speak just yet. You put a small piece of pancake in your mouth and chewed slowly, leaving all communication up to Dean.

"I gotta be honest, what I felt for you scared the shit out of me. And by the time I'd convinced myself to do something about it, it was too late. You were leaving and I told myself that it was for the best. That I should do what was best for you and let you go." He was still crouched down beside you, spending an inordinate amount of time studying his bare feet. It gave you a great view of the mess of pancake batter in his hair. How the hell did he manage that? "But it wasn't, not for me. I couldn't stop thinking about you and there were a couple of times there that I thought I'd never be able to tell you."

He looked up at you now, his face emanating pure, bare bones honesty. There was pain there too. Like maybe you weren't the only one who had suffered all this time without him. How were you supposed to resist that? How was it that you had everything you'd ever wanted literally at your feet without even trying for the past two years? You were so shocked, trying to wrap your mind around the idea.

"I, uh, thought I was doing what was best for both of us. What you'd asked me to do... But. I was uh... There was no replacing you in my life." His hand brushing a few hairs from your face brought you back to the moment. "Is it too late? Am I too late?" His hand settled on your face like it had the night before, calloused and warm and perfect. Just like him. "Have you found some college kid? That Stacey kid maybe, who's smart and safe-"

"Would you just shut up for a second!" You blurted, your hand covering his mouth. His eyes were wide with surprise, which only added to the giddy feeling bubbling up from your chest. "Why would I need anyone like that in my life when I already have you?" He was just so goddamned perfect and appeared to be stumped at your words. You felt the smile on your face, the way your cheek muscles strained to contain it. "Just... shut up." You managed to mumble before you fell into his lap and kissed him.

 


	5. Wild Horses

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean and Y/N have a discussion about the past and the future.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the last chapter of the story! There is some explicit sexual content and some hardcore fluff. I hope you enjoy this as much as I did writing it. I may come back to add a time stamp, but this is where I'll leave it for now.
> 
> And lastly, "You're still here, and you're making pancakes?" Was the prompt that inspired this fic.

Part 5

He grunted in surprise, but didn't hesitate to catch you against him and return that kiss with fervor. One of his hands cradled the back of your head, his fingers threading through your hair. He kissed you until you were breathless and vibrating with want. He continued the onslaught of words against your mouth, his voice rough and choppy. You'd never heard him sound so desperate and at first you were stunned. "I'll do whatever you want me to... I'll quit hunting too... I'll come stay with you... Fuck, I'll-"

You managed to get some space between you, his muscles flexing and jumping beneath your fingers where your hand rested on his chest, warmth bleeding through his t shirt. "I don't want that." You wanted preserve and protect the heart that slammed a jagged beat against the delicate skin of your hand.

He looked wounded at first but not surprised, like you'd reared back and punched him in the jaw but he'd seen it coming. Then he turned his gaze downward like he'd expected to be turned down and it broke you. So, you hurried to explain. You tipped his head up, your hand staying there to cradle his stubbled cheek. You loved the weight of his gaze, completely focused on you and nothing else.

"I don't want you to stop doing what you love, Dean. It's always meant so much more to you than it has me." He watched you with wary eyes, obviously looking for the catch. "You're so good, Dean. So goddamned smart and good at what you do. It's just..." He was looking for the reason that it would crumble in his hands. "It won't be easy. In fact, it's never been easy, this thing between you and me."

He closed his eyes, like he couldn't bear to see the words coming out of your mouth. Then, it slammed into you, how wide open he'd left himself here. That he had laid it all on the line with the hope of convincing you to be with him. You'd never known Dean to cut himself so close to the quick for anyone but his family.

"Dean, look at me." You waited as his eyes opened hesitantly. "I love you. I think you've always known that." You heard the fondness in your own tone, saw it in the way you caressed his cheek with your thumb. "I'm not gonna give up on this. I can't just wait in the bunker waiting for the call that you've died. Again. I have to keep chasing this dream of mine and I don't know how-"

"Whatever you want. However you want. It's your game, sweetheart." A little bit of his cockiness was starting to come back through the 'abandoned boy' on his features. "I'm as flexible as a guy can get." He winked at you and you couldn't help but smile at his innuendo, knowing for a fact that he was right.

You thumbed at his bottom lip, "Do you know what I want right now?"

"Does it involve nakedness?" He ventured, one eye squinting a little and his opposite eyebrow raised in childlike hopefulness.

Dean Winchester was an absolute shit.

You knew there would need to be a more serious conversation in the future. But after the past that you guys had survived, and the raw feeling still resonating from the previous night, you were willing to let it go for now.

"Yes, both of us. Very naked. Now."

He wasted no time in effortlessly standing up with you still in his arms, muscles bulging and flexing, even as you were already pulling your shirt and bra off. He managed to step over the duffle that had sent you tumbling down earlier and tossed you onto the bed with ease.

You were kicking off your shoes while tugging down your pants as he began quickly divesting himself of his own clothes. He was obviously well practiced and fast, covering your naked body with his in no time. He immediately started kissing any skin he could reach.

"Fuck, Y/N... missed you... so damned much." His stubble scratched your neck and cheek as he whispered the words, thick with emotion he never let show, into your skin like a confession. His hands seemed to have the single minded goal of touching you everywhere.

You savored his lips on your skin, the way he felt strong and solid beneath your own hands. You thought of how you took for granted that Dean would always be the solid rock, that he too needed to fall apart sometimes. You pushed greedily into his every touch, even when his fingers slipped down a path to your already soaking core.

"Oh fuck, so wet sweetheart." He groaned as his body moved against yours, his throbbing cock branding your hip with precome, biting his lip as he slipped two fingers inside your hot center. He groaned again as you moved your hips greedily to encourage his fingers to thrust inside. He kissed you while his fingers massaged your walls and his thumb drew tight circles over your clit, driving you insane with want.

His tongue mapped the inside of your mouth thoroughly, dragging behind your teeth and tangling with yours, before you longingly sucked it between your lips. You thought his skin would merge into yours with how hard he held you close. You knew he would be leaving marks all over your body and you would admire them with pride later.

Then, those beautiful lips began kissing down your body, leaving a damp trail on your vibrating skin, his wet tongue swirling around one nipple. Then, sucking hungrily at the other. You were so fucking close to coming, your entire body was humming with the need to come. "Dean."

He continued his trek downward, "I've got you, sweetheart. Don't worry." He took a moment to swirl his tongue in your belly button, a playful grin on his face with the knowledge that he was taking you apart, making you buck a little harder. He grinned before he raked his teeth over your hip bones, shooting sparks of pleasure through your stomach.

"Fuck, Dean... Please..." His warm, wide hands spread your thighs so he could wedge his face between them, causing you to babble more. "Oh fuck! Oh... Dean!" He stopped all ministrations except for his hot breath against your dripping entrance, making you buck into the air for any kind of friction.

He knew you were close, he could see the signs of it in the way your body moved desperately. So, because he was Dean Winchester and he was a complete shit, he took his time, his wet lips slowly dragging and nipping against your inner thigh. Then he started to talk, his low rumbling voice tickling your delicate skin. "When I first saw you, I thought you were perfect with your braid and the flowers in your hair. No matter how bitchy your brothers got, you always had the prettiest smile. From then on you were the star of all my fantasies. I wanted you, wanted to be like you, wanted to be better for you. But I know nothing that came out of my mouth ever translated to that." His lips teased over your entrance before he started on your other thigh.

"And then I found out you were hunting alone." His voice became hoarse, like the memory hurt him to think about. "I couldn't stand that you were out there without anyone to watch your back. All I meant to do was help, I didn't mean for us to have sex and complicate things. But damnit, you weren't just that cute, lost little girl anymore. You were fucking hot and irresistible. I didn't mean to be an asshole." His hands slid slowly down your thighs before he stopped at your ass and tilted your hips up, squeezing you in his grip. "I only wanted what was best for you."

You could barely spare him a glance, your fingers were twisted in the sheets beside you in anticipation, your eyes closed tight as you thrashed your head against the pillow. As much as you were enjoying his confession, you would rather he fuck you first and talk later. But you weren't going to stop him because you needed to hear those words. You whimpered as he licked a wide stripe across your lips before closing his mouth around your swollen clit and sucking lightly.

He was still teasing you. You knew this because of the grin you felt against the skin of your thigh when a grunt of frustration escaped you. "It was sexy as hell hunting with you, watching you take control of the situation." Fine, if he wanted to play... "You'd get this fire in your eyes and-" You let go of the sheets to grip his hair with one hand and the back of his neck with another and guided his plush lips where you needed him most, disrupting his train of thoughts and speech.

When his mouth tasted your wet, hot center he moaned like a starving man getting a delicious meal. He didn't falter or tease, his mouth setting to work immediately. His large hands gripped your ass hard, gradually working his tongue into your body as you writhed against him.

You were instantly flush and desperate., covered in a thin film of sweat, "Ff-fuck, Dean!" He licked and sucked until you were nearly incoherent before his lips wrapped around your clit and two long fingers thrust into your body. For a moment, you savored how your walls were clinging to his fingers, before your first orgasm shattered you.

You didn't care who heard you as you moaned and gasped helplessly through your release. Your hands had moved from their grip in his hair, your fingers now desperately gripping and digging his shoulders. Distantly, you heard Dean's moans vibrating through your body, his hand squeezing your thigh tight and anchoring you in the moment.

He didn't stop until you were overly sensitive and you tugged against his hair, trying to pull him up. He followed your direction wordlessly, his hands moving over you reverently as he shifted. You only had a second to take in the way his hair was sticking up in tufts and how his lips were swollen, red and covered in slick before he kissed you. It was a deep, toe curling kiss. One that made you try to hold on tight even through your post orgasmic haze. You tasted the tang of your juices on his lips and tongue. It was a kiss that made you feel like you could come again without much help.

"Please." You whispered against his hair as he'd begun to mouth wetly at your neck, making you squirm. "Dean, please." He finally set his heavy lidded eyes on yours. "Want you. Please?"

"Fuck," he punched out in a breath, his watery eyes never leaving yours. "Fuck, sweetheart. Anything... Anything you want-" His lips crashed into yours, his words getting lost in your mouth, as he wrapped his arms around you and rolled onto his back. The movement broke contact with your lips, but his hand found and stayed on your face. "You're perfect, you know that?" His thumb was lazily caressing your cheek like you were the Impala's sleek, metal body. "Fucking perfect..."

You met his lips again, feeling the sincerity of his words and girth of his cock burn inside you. You'd waited so damn long for him to say these things to you and you'd never thought you would get it. You didn't think Dean would allow such a liability into his life. But he was here beneath you, buried deep inside, holding you tight.

He bent his knees, trying to get more leverage as he thrust up into you. But soon he was frustrated. He wasn't close enough, deep enough. Fluidly, he rolled you onto your back and blanketed your body with his. His thighs tucked under your thighs as one arm held your waist up so that he had no problem hitting your sweet spot over and over. His free hand cradled the back of your neck, his body wrapped around you so that there was no free space between you. Only skin sliding on skin, the humid air you were breathing in was saturated in his scent.

"I love you." He breathed raggedly into your ear, his body shaking with the impending orgasm and emotion you could feel building in his tight body. "Fuck, I love you." The coil that had been wound tight inside you broke at the unchecked emotion in those words and pushed you over the edge. Your grip on him was tight all over as he fucked you through it and you knew you were drawing blood.

His rhythm began to falter, his breath getting caught in his throat. "I can't- I want- Oh fuck-" He stuttered through the words, trying to hold off his orgasm just a little longer, trying to make this moment last. He'd been waiting just as long for this to be a real, tangible thing.

But then, you found your voice, shot through as it might be, and whispered against his shoulder. "Come on, Dean." You were unable to stand the torment in his voice after what had happened last night. You didn't want to hear that in his voice ever again, no matter what the circumstances were. "Want you to. Wanna feel you."

You felt his body lock up at your words, his fingers leaving bruises where he held on, his blunt nails digging into your skin. You felt the twitch and pulse and heat inside you as he started to come. His swollen mouth formed a silent scream against your neck until it became a broken, tormented cry as his hips twitched and bucked helplessly against you.

His body never stopped moving, his thrusts becoming lazy as his hands eased up and down your back and sides. He pressed kisses to your shoulder, neck, jaw and ear. He kissed reverently over your closed eyes, your forehead, your cheeks before he finally kissed your lips.

He rolled onto his back, holding you so that your head was resting against his chest. You stored away the comment that you wanted to make about him manhandling you all the time, saving it for later. However, now you couldn't drum up enough energy to care as you reveled in the feel of his hot, sweaty skin against you. Of how his breathing was still a little strained and his heart beat was echoing rapidly in your ear. Of how his hands lazily caressed you until you were fuzzy and seconds from sleep.

"You'll be here when I wake up?" You whispered into his skin without moving a muscle.

He hesitated for a moment, just long enough for you to tense up a little. Of course he wouldn't be staying. He always left after the sex was over and everything was more real. You figured he was afraid of the words he might say afterwards or maybe the expectation.

He cleared his throat and pulled you closer to him, his lips rested on your fore head, and he began to sing. His voice was smooth and deep, nothing like the atrocity that you'd heard while he was singing in his car.

**_"Childhood living, is easy to do. The things you wanted, I bought them for you. Graceless lady, you know who I am. You know I can't let you slide through my hands..."_ **

He must've felt your smile against his skin because you felt his smile brush against your forehead in return. His fingers traced unknown symbols into the skin of your back.

**_"Wild horses, couldn't drag me away. Wild, wild horses couldn't drag me away."_ **

If you could form words right now, you'd tell him that he sounded better than Jagger right now. But the words were getting stuck on the lump in your throat.

**_"I watched you suffer, a dull aching pain. Now, you've decided to show me the same. No sweeping exits or offstage lines could make me bitter or treat you unkind. Wild horses, couldn't drag me away. Wild, wild horses couldn't drag me away."_ **

Tears finally slipped down your cheek and you tried your hardest not to sniffle. You didn't want to alert him to how his voice was wrapping around your heart and squeezing it. You didn't want to clue him in to how long you'd waited for something like this and how many times he'd ripped your heart out before.

**_"I know I've dreamed you a sin and a lie. I have my freedom, but I don't have much time. Faith has been broken, tears must be cried. Let's do some living, after we die."_ **

His left hand reached up to thumb away the tears that he could reach. "Why are you crying, sweetheart?" He hitched you up closer, your face was now able to hide in the crook of his shoulder and neck.

"It's..." You sniffed loudly and tried in vain to wipe the tears from your face. You paused for a moment to collect your thoughts, to really narrow down what exactly you were feeling. You let your hand travel up to comb through the hairs at the back of his neck. Then, you laughed a little at how ridiculous you were being. "I'm just stupidly fucking happy." You muttered.

"Come on," he muttered back, but squeezed you tight. It was obvious he was trying to lighten the mood. "You don't have to cry, my signings not that bad!"

"Baby, you couldn't carry a tune in a barrel, but it's wonderful."

You could tell there was a cocky expression on his face even though you couldn't see it. Maybe it was in the tilt of his head, "Its because you love me."

You bit your cheek against a sarcastic retort as you rolled your eyes. "That's it."

You settled down, your heart beat finally easing to normal in your chest as you relaxed against him again. You let go of any stress that crossed your mind, like what happened next or when you would finish that damn essay. Dean was here, with you, and work was taken care of. You both would figure it out. You were seconds away from sleep when he began to sing again.

 ** _"Wild horses, couldn't drag me away. Wild, wild horses couldn't drag me away..."_** Then his voice softened as he kissed whatever was closest to him. It just happened to be the tip of your nose. "Sleep, sweetheart. I'll be here when you wake up."

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

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